Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 7.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

[526] himself. For example, General Trimble sent to him for some mounted men as couriers while we were at Swift Run gap. At that time General Trimble was a mile in rear of our camp. I happened to meet him immediately after he received the application, and he said: “Look here! send that old man Trimble a mounted man or two. Nobody is going to hurt him way behind me, yet he wants some cavalry to keep him posted; and he has a fellow named Kirkland over on the mountain, on picket, who wants horsemen. I expect if a fellow in the woods would say boo, the whole crew would get away.” This sounded very “queer” to me. I had sent a scout over the river, and that evening a deserter from the Federal army was brought in, who informed me that General Shields, commanding about eight thousand troops, was preparing to move to Fauquier county, Virginia, to join General McDowell, who was there with thirty thousand troops. He was an intelligent young man, who “guessed he had seen enough of war and wanted to get out of the army.” I took him to General Ewell's quarters, who gave him a searching examination. The next morning two more prisoners were brought in, who confirmed the report of the deserter, as they had three days cooked rations. Ewell was crazy to attack Shields, and though awaiting orders from General Jackson, wrote to ask permission to be allowed to attack him. He did not know exactly where Jackson was, or what he was after, and was in a blaze. He ordered me to cook rations and be prepared to move with my regiment, to take a part of the Sixth Virginia cavalry and two guns of Brockenbrough's battery, and to impede Shields' movement in every possible way I could, by barricades, destroying bridges, worrying his train, and feints, and to keep him posted. I was to start at 12 at night, but to report to him before leaving. When I went to his quarters I found him in bed. He asked me to hand him a map, and with a miserable lard lamp he attempted to show me where General Jackson was. Before I knew what he was after, he sprung out of bed, with only a night-shirt on — no carpet on the floor — and spreading the map open on the floor, down on his knees he went; his bones farely rattled; his bald head and long beard made him look more like a witch than a Major-General. He became much excited, pointed out Jackson's position, General Shields', and General McDowell's, who was then at Warrenton, to act as McClellan's right wing. Then, with an ugly oath, he said: “This great wagon hunter is after a Dutchman, an old fool! General Lee at Richmond will ”